Harry Potter and the Completely Normal Seventh Year
by Quantum Severance
Summary: After Harry defeats Voldemort at the end of his sixth year, he and his friends return to Hogwarts for Harry's seventh year. With Voldemort out of the picture, Harry hopes to spend his final year at Hogwarts worry-free. What could go wrong? AU, no Horcruxes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe.**

_Harry Potter and the Completely Normal Seventh Year_

_By Shadowatom_

_Chapter 1_

It was chaos.

Pure, unadulterated chaos.

Harry sat in the living room of The Burrow with Hermione, revelling in the long-held tradition of pre-Hogwarts mayhem in the Weasley household. He and Hermione exchanged an amused glance as they sipped their tea, Molly Weasley's shrill voice cutting through the thumps and frantic footsteps from upstairs.

It was the morning of September First, the first day of Harry, Hermione, and Ron's seventh and final year as students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Hogwarts Express was set to leave King's Cross station in less than an hour. Ron and Ginny had only just woken up, and both were now scrambling to pack all of their things.

Harry had learned to listen to Hermione long ago and, like her, had packed the night before, trunks safely shrunken and secured in Hermione's magically expanded mokeskin pouch. The two best friends sat closely on the couch but neither spoke, preferring to sit and listen to the now-familiar cacophony of The Burrow, simply enjoying each other's company.

Harry was quite happy to say that, after defeating Lord Voldemort at the end of his sixth year, he had had the most stress-free summer of his entire life. He spent time with his friends, even staying over at Hermione's house for several weeks and travelling around Europe with his godfather, Sirius Black. The threat of Voldemort was now eliminated, and Harry was finally free to grow without the constant threat of death weighing down his shoulders.

He had shot up like a weed over the past few months, and although he, Hermione, and Sirius had gone on an exhausting five-hour shopping spree at the beginning of the summer, they were forced to repeat the venture several days ago, as almost none of the clothes fit Harry properly anymore.

Not that Harry was complaining, really. He had finally reached what he proudly deemed as a respectable height for a teenage boy.

Shaking himself from his musings, he glanced at his best friend. Hermione was staring into space, a faraway look in her eyes, absently sipping her tea. Harry was struck by the way her once-bushy hair flowed in graceful waves and perfectly framed her face. Harry felt his own face flush at his thoughts, but he shook them away. Thinking about Sirius had given him an idea, and he knew Hermione would be all for it.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said. She jerked, turning to him in surprise, and a faint blush rose to her face as she caught his laugh at her reaction. She gave a little chuckle along with him, and sighed.

"Sorry, Harry. I'm just…thinking," she tried to explain her inattentiveness. She rolled her eyes at his disbelieving look, but she knew he wouldn't press her.

"Well I hope you didn't hurt yourself." he grinned impishly. "Ow!" he cried out dramatically, rubbing his shoulder in feigned hurt. She rolled her eyes again and scoffed, though she couldn't hold back a smile at his antics.

Returning her smile, Harry leaned back and relaxed into the couch, laying his arm across the back. She took the opening and settled against his side, leaning her head lightly on his chest. His hand automatically rose up from the back of the couch to gently stroke her hair, and she hummed in contentment.

"I was thinking," he started, "and no, I didn't hurt myself either, thank you very much." She snorted and reached up to flick his nose.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she said in a posh accent, "please do enlighten me." He grinned at her.

"I was thinking that we should try to become Animagi. And not like the way the Marauders did it, with the ritual and the potion and everything. The longer way, with meditation and shite."

Hermione drew back a little and stared at him in surprise, not even bothering to berate him for swearing. Defeating Voldemort had left him with a surprisingly vulgar vocabulary, for reasons not many understood. Privately, Harry had told Hermione and Sirius that he felt much more teenager-y by swearing at least every other sentence. Thankfully, he had agreed to tone it down around Hermione.

"What?" he asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze. His hand had followed her movement as she pulled away from him, and it now rested comfortably on the back of her neck.

The feeling of his hand on her neck gave Hermione all sorts of butterflies and fluttery feelings, but she refused to let it show on her face. "Nothing, Harry," she said, relaxing back into him. "I was just surprised, is all. You know a bit more about the process than I thought you would."

Harry blushed despite himself. "I've been doing a bit of _light reading_," he emphasized, chuckling at Hermione's soft slap against his chest, "and I've been talking to Sirius about it. He said that once they found out about Remus' 'furry little problem', they didn't want to waste any time in helping him out by becoming Animagi. He mentioned that the more difficult method involves a lot of 'communing with nature' and 'inner peace', whatever that means, but it would allow us a better connection with our form and even potentially some skills gained as a human."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked curiously, absently taking a hold of the hand not currently stroking her hair and twining their fingers together.

"Well," Harry said slowly, searching for a good example, "imagine Snape takes the form of a bat." Hermione snorted at this, drawing a laugh from Harry. "If he became an Animagus the way my dad, Sirius, and the rat did, he and his bat form would exist as almost two separate entities. Aside from transforming, he wouldn't interact with his bat form at all.

"On the other hand, if he were to go about it through meditation and connecting with nature, he would be coexisting with the bat within him, almost like a symbiotic relationship. They accept each other as one, and as a result, Snape might gain an underdeveloped ability to use echolocation or something like that. I think it'd be bloody useful if we could get something like that. I just wish I'd thought of it earlier…" he trailed off, looking somewhat frustrated.

"You're right, Harry," Hermione said after a prolonged silence, "it would have been quite useful against Voldemort. However," she said sharply, as Harry had opened his mouth to interrupt, obviously angry with himself for not thinking of it earlier, "it would have been impractical. You're saying it would take a really long time to achieve that sort of bond with your animal, and even then it wouldn't be guaranteed. I agree that being an Animagus could have been very beneficial, but we didn't have the time nor did we have the presence of mind to accomplish such a feat, given the circumstances."

Harry let out an explosive sigh and leaned his head against hers, giving her hand a slight squeeze. "You're right, of course," he replied with a small smirk. She squeezed back, and he felt a smile stretch across her face.

"Anyway," he resumed his explanation, "I think it would be bloody awesome, and it would also be a good side project for Transfiguration. Maybe McGonagall or our NEWT examiners will give us extra credit," he added thoughtfully.

"That would be pretty amazing, Harry," Hermione said, quietly proud that Harry was willing to work for extra credit. "Although it _would _be a bit difficult to find the time, what with NEWTs and our Head duties."

Harry had been utterly floored when his Hogwarts letter was accompanied by the Head Boy badge, though few shared his surprise. Hermione had rolled her eyes and logically recounted all of his heroic deeds and vastly improved marks since the beginning of fifth year. She had also calmly explained to him with fond exasperation that no, he didn't need to be a prefect to be the Head Boy; yes, she would help him learn about and understand his duties; yes, of course the students will listen to him and respect him ("You're Harry bloody Potter for Merlin's sake!" Ron had exclaimed).

"That won't be a problem," Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "We've probably been through the entire bloody seventh year curriculum, Hermione. This year will mostly be just review for us."

It was true. The past two years had been spent training and preparing for his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort. After witnessing Cedric's death and being used for Voldemort's resurrection at the end of his fourth year, Harry had vowed to finally heed Hermione's assertions that he should put more effort into his studies. Through rigorous self-study, Harry, with Hermione's help, flew through the fifth year OWL curriculum and even picking up Ancient Runes, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

Ron, bless his heart, tried his best to keep up, but he just wasn't suited to the intense academic life his two best friends had taken on. He knew his strengths, and his weaknesses, so he accepted the situation for what it was and did his best to help the two learn what they needed to. However, that's not to say he didn't improve his grades as well. While Hermione was a veritable library of information that she could recite nearly on command, Harry had a talent for explaining ideas and concepts in a way that was easier for Ron to understand.

Harry's explanation would give Ron a good basis of information, which would then help Ron grasp the complexities that Hermione would expand upon. All in all, it was a great system, though it had its flaws, and the Golden Trio progressed quickly.

By the time their OWL exams arrived, Harry and Hermione had progressed well into the sixth year NEWT curriculum. Harry had convinced Professor McGonagall to let him drop Divination under the condition that he provide her evidence of his independent study of Runes. He had ended up with Outstandings in every subject he tested in except Herbology, in which he scored Exceeds Expectations, and History of Magic and Astronomy, in which he had received Acceptables. That was to be expected, as he, Ron, and Hermione had decided to focus on more practical subjects.

When Harry was able to duel Voldemort to a standstill that lasted several minutes at the end of his fifth year, saving Sirius and his friends, Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix finally caved and began training him. By the time Voldemort led an attack on the castle at the end of sixth year, Harry and Hermione had progressed through nearly the entire seventh year NEWT curriculum in most subjects, and had moved deep into Auror training.

When Harry confronted Voldemort by himself before the Dark Lord's forces could reach the castle (Harry was of course given an extremely emotional verbal dressing-down from Hermione, Sirius, and the Weasleys for going off on his own), Voldemort allowed for a duel.

He was caught by surprise at Harry's knowledge and sheer skill and power, and it nearly cost him within the first thirty seconds. He was furious when Harry managed to land a nasty cutting curse on his left cheek, and he threw increasingly Dark spells at Harry, recklessly casting curse after curse. It was this ironically Gryffindor-ish offense that gave Harry the opening he so desperately needed, after nearly thirty minutes of constant movement and casting.

Several months back, Hermione had discovered a potentially useful spell in the Black library in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Upon further research, it turned out that the spell was crafted using the Dispelling Charm, _Finite Incantatem_, as a base. The spell was used primarily to dispel wards and other, more powerful charms and spells that a simple _Finite Incantatem_ could not handle but Hermione theorized that it could be repurposed and reinvented to strip someone of their magic.

She spent weeks holed up in the library, furiously jotting down Arithmantic equations and immersing herself into the study of magical theory. Finally, after nearly two months of constant research and little sleep, Hermione was able to strip down the spell to its magical essence and rebuild it, modifying the wand movement and the incantation. The result was a spell that had the potential to sever the target's connection with his or her magic. Permanently.

With the theoretical portion complete, Harry and Hermione had to shift their focus to the practical aspect of magic. In this case, the spell Hermione created required an incredible amount of power and an extremely focused and concentrated intent. As there was no way to practice the spell, the two had to content themselves with constant drilling of the theory, practicing the wand movement, and substituting other spells that required similar amounts of power and intent.

In the end, as Harry would later insist, it all came down to luck. Voldemort, in his rage, neglected to keep notice of his surroundings, his focus entirely on Harry, who was ducking, dodging, weaving, and shielding like his life depended on it (which it did). Voldemort's lack of spatial awareness led to his downfall when he tripped on a large mound of dirt as he advanced on an exhausted Harry Potter. Voldemort righted himself quickly of course, barely showing he had tripped at all, but that slight moment of distraction was all Harry needed.

With renewed vigor and an astonishing speed that caught Voldemort by surprise, Harry let out a chain of spells, forcing Voldemort to physically avoid Harry's spells rather than shield. He recognized the power Harry had pushed into those spells, and Voldemort was not stupid enough to believe that his shield, while far stronger than most, wouldn't be able to withstand an overpowered onslaught from Harry.

Unfortunately for Voldemort, however, he had underestimated Harry yet again. As the final spell left Harry's wand, _Terminum Ultima Magicae,_ Voldemort was dodging on instinct, and with his graceful twirl away from Harry's penultimate spell, a nasty bone-breaker, Voldemort was caught in the chest with the Magic-Removal spell that Hermione had created.

The effect was immediate. Voldemort let out a blood-curdling scream as he felt magic - _his magic_ \- leave him. However, Harry and Hermione hadn't realized that magic was the only thing sustaining the monstrous body Voldemort had created, and the body, as soon as the connection was severed, began to decompose rapidly, turning into dust. As Harry slumped to his knees in exhaustion, he breathed a sigh of relief as all the marked Death Eaters clutched their arms in agony as the poisonous magic that kept them bound to their master forced its way out.

Harry was broken from his musings with a sharp poke in the side from Hermione, who was looking at him in amusement.

"Alright, Harry?" she asked, laughing as he tickled her back.

"I'm fine, Hermione; just thinking," he responded. "And yes, I may have strained my tiny brain in the process." Her laughter rang beautifully in his ears, and he grinned along with her. "Anyway, as I was saying," he started after her laughter had diminished, "Sirius gave me a list of the books he remembered from researching the process." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded slip of parchment, which he handed to Hermione.

He watched as Hermione unfolded the parchment and skimmed the long list of titles written in Sirius' surprisingly neat handwriting. Harry's eyes drifted to her face and he took in her slightly furrowed brow and wrinkled nose as she tried to recall whether or not she'd seen or heard of the books. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed as she bit her bottom lip in concentration, choosing instead to focus on the feel of her soft hair in between his fingers as he continued his ministrations.

Their peace in the storm that was the Burrow was soon interrupted, however, when Ginny came rushing down the stairs, Ron hot on her tail. Hermione's head jerked up at the unexpected sound, and smiled when she saw the two youngest Weasleys. Gently, she grasped Harry's left hand, the one that was stroking her hair, and looked at his watch. Nodding in approval, she stood up, neatly refolding the booklist and placing it in her jacket pocket.

"Half an hour to spare. Not bad, Weasleys," she grinned as she offered Harry a hand off the couch. Taking Hermione's outstretched hand, Harry stood up next to her, though neither released their hold. Eyes comically wide, Harry stared at Ron and Ginny in surprise.

"Half an hour? That has to be some kind of record!" Harry said jokingly as he and Hermione joined the redheads by the front door. Ron puffed out his chest in mock pride.

"Thank you, thank you very much," he postured, even going so far as to bow deeply at the waist, which sent his companions into a fit of laughter.

As Hermione shrank Ron and Ginny's trunks, Molly Weasley came bustling in from the kitchen, wasting no time in ushering them out the front door. Harry, Hermione, and Ron, having recently earned their Apparition Licenses, Apparated themselves to King's Cross Station, while Mrs. Weasley Side-Along Apparated Ginny.

When the party of five arrived at the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters Apparition Point, they quickly moved aside to avoid any unintentional obstruction for other Apparating families. Harry took a moment to just stand and stare at the platform, watching Hogwarts students and their families arrive and socialize before boarding the train.

He took in the familiarity of the scene, smiling contentedly. He took a deep breath, and with a glance behind him at his family, his eyes came to rest on Hermione, who smiled back in happiness and support. She took his hand and they stepped into the fray, preparing for their final year at Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe.**

_Harry Potter and the Completely Normal Seventh Year_

_By Shadowatom_

_Chapter 2_

When Harry and Hermione made their presence known on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with Ron right beside them, all movement on the platform slowly ground to a halt as they recognized the three teens. The silence that permeated throughout the platform was excruciatingly discomfiting, considering the normal level of disorganized chaos that the magical train platform was generally known for.

Soon, however, someone began to clap, and the cheers spread like Fiendfyre. It took awhile for the applause to settle down, but eventually the cheers subsided. The attention they received was far from over, however, as people began approaching the group of five, offering their heartfelt gratitude and awe.

Harry and Hermione smiled through it all, though Harry's face quickly began to ache with the strain of keeping the fixed smile looking genuine. Ron, of course, basked in the attention, and he gladly did most of the talking with the well-wishers. Nearly ten minutes later, Harry and Hermione escaped politely, citing Head duties, and began searching for first years and their families.

Fortunately, they boarded the Hogwarts Express without incident aside from a tearful smothering courtesy of Mrs. Weasley, and soon they were off to Hogwarts.

As Harry had never been a prefect, Hermione did most of the talking and handed out the patrol schedules during the prefect meeting on the train. The familiarity of the long trip to Hogwarts allowed Harry to relax, and he chatted comfortably with his friends as they visited the prefects' compartment.

As they approached Hogwarts, an odd thought struck Harry. He turned to Hermione, who was sitting against the compartment wall with her feet settled on Harry's lap, reading.

"You know," Harry started, causing Hermione to glance up at him, "it's strange."

"What's strange?" she asked, curious at the contemplative look on Harry's face.

"The trip to Hogwarts just doesn't feel right without Malfoy paying us a visit," Harry said with a grin, which she returned, letting out a few chuckles.

"You're right, it just seems...peaceful. _Too_ peaceful," she grinned, eliciting a laugh from Harry. The Malfoy scion had not been reinstated as the Slytherin prefect, and neither had Pansy Parkinson. Instead, as Snape had resigned as soon as he could after Voldemort's defeat, Horace Slughorn had appointed Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, both of whom were much less antagonistic and slightly more friendly.

In all honesty, Harry and Hermione had no idea whether or not Malfoy was even returning to Hogwarts for his final year. They had been too distracted on the platform and they had not seen him on the Express.

Abandoning their thoughts of Malfoy, the two friends once again fell into a comfortable silence.

When Harry entered the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast, he was overcome by nostalgia once again. The Hall was decorated as grandly as ever, but Harry thought everything seemed a little brighter, a little happier. He sat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by his friends, and he let himself be swept up by the atmosphere of the Great Hall.

As the Sorting Ceremony began, Harry focused on each little first year, trying hard to remember as many names as possible. Was it just him, or was this year's class larger than the rest? When he posed this question to Hermione, she smiled at him and nodded.

"Some families left Britain last year, before and after the attacks began," she whispered. "It seems they've returned." Harry nodded in agreement as he turned his attention back to the nervous young witches and wizards, though he reached for Hermione's hand under the table and intertwined their fingers, receiving a light squeeze in response.

When all was said and done, the House of Gryffindor had received seventeen new members, much more than Harry remembered any other class having, and the feast began in earnest after Dumbledore's customary nonsensical words, "Waffle! Bubbles! Kite! Lamppost!" The food, as usual, was delicious, and Harry made a mental note to visit the kitchens soon to thank the elves. Unfortunately, the feast came to an end, and as Harry, stomach almost achingly full, looked around the hall, he was met with sleepy, contented faces all around.

Dumbledore, thankfully, only briefly mentioned Harry's defeat of Voldemort when he introduced him and Hermione as Head Boy and Head Girl, but even the Headmaster was unable to move on quickly enough to cut off the applause that erupted. Harry and Hermione smiled at the Headmaster and gave a slight bow of their heads before sitting down, but the cheers did not abate until Dumbledore finally quieted them with a raised hand.

As the students dispersed and made the journey to their respective house dormitories, Professor McGonagall approached Harry and Hermione, who bade Ron a good night with a promise to show him their rooms the next day.

As McGonagall neared the two students, they were treated to one of her rare, genuine smiles, which they returned happily.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione greeted, and was shocked when the normally stern and strict professor reached out and brought them both in for a group hug.

"Hello, you two," Professor McGonagall returned as she pulled away. She quirked an eyebrow at the surprise on their faces, but refused to address it, instead turning and beckoning them to follow her to speak with the Headmaster. Hermione, still reeling, simply stood there, staring at McGonagall, but Harry grasped her hand and pulled her along, giving a small shrug and a smile in response to her look of amazement. Hermione rolled her eyes at him but smiled as she let herself be pulled along.

By the time they were finished discussing their Head duties, the Great Hall had been completely emptied, and Dumbledore wished them a good night. As Harry and Hermione followed McGonagall to their rooms, they spoke about their summers and their plans for the school year. After exchanging a significant glance, Harry and Hermione broached the idea of becoming Animagi.

"Well, Professor," Hermione said, taking the lead, "we've decided that we want to try to become Animagi using the Naturalist Method. Would you be willing to help us learn?" Stopping suddenly, McGonagall whirled around and focused her severe gaze on the two students, both of whom had stumbled in an effort to avoid a collision with the Transfiguration Professor. Several moments passed in silence as Professor McGonagall stared critically at Harry and Hermione, and finally she nodded to herself.

Her face relaxed and she smiled at them proudly, turning back around and continuing the trek to the Head Suite. After exchanging twin looks of confusion, Harry and Hermione rushed after McGonagall.

"Er, is that a yes?" Harry ventured after they had caught up, wincing slightly as Hermione chastised his lack of tact with a light slap on the arm. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall took no offense, and Harry could have sworn her smile widened.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. I will oversee your Animagus training," Professor McGonagall responded primly, and both Harry and Hermione beamed with excitement. "Come to my office this weekend, and we will begin the process. Saturday at three o'clock, shall we say?"

"That sounds brilliant, Professor," Harry responded eagerly, and Hermione grasped his hand tightly with barely contained glee.

Soon enough, the three lions arrived in front of a suit of armor on the seventh floor, and after setting a new password ("Ron Weasley is a dunderhead," which earned Harry a flick on the ear from Hermione and a disapproving yet slightly amused look from Professor McGonagall), Harry and Hermione bade Professor a good night and the two seventh years entered their new living space for the last ten months of their education at Hogwarts.

Behind the suit of armor that received the password, a relatively large wooden door opened to a short stone corridor lined with torches. The corridor opened up to a small but cozy rectangular common room, decorated with Gryffindor red and gold on each wall. The room was lit with a small chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling and was accompanied by several torches along the walls. To the left, a stone fireplace sat dormant underneath a portrait depicting a proud-looking Hippogriff standing atop a cliff, gazing out across a dense, lush forest.

In front of the fireplace was a short table surrounded by two armchairs on opposite sides and a comfortable-looking sofa directly facing the fireplace. Full bookshelves lined the wall on either side of the fireplace and continued along the wall opposite the entrance, complete with study spaces in the corners. On the right wall, two wooden doors indicated the separate rooms for the Head Boy and Head Girl.

As Harry and Hermione stood at the entrance to the Suite, they absorbed their surroundings and both felt the magic of the room wash over them and settle their minds, causing them both to relax and drawing a yawn out of Harry. Hermione, fighting the urge to yawn herself, smiled and squeezed Harry's hand, and with a look they silently agreed to truly explore the room later, when they weren't so exhausted. As they entered their respective rooms, Harry was slightly surprised at the similarities between it and the shared dormitory room that Harry had lived in while at Hogwarts for the past six years. He didn't think much of it, though, and he grinned when he spotted his trunk at the foot of his bed, making a mental note to thank Dobby when he next saw him.

Stripping down to his boxers, Harry collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately as a feeling of contentment washed over him.

The next morning, Harry woke slowly to the golden rays of sunlight filtering through the window. Groggily blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Harry lazily sat up and proceeded with his normal morning routine, basking in the simplicity that his routine afforded. When he stepped out of his room, freshly showered and changed, he was greeted by the almost painfully familiar sight of Hermione engrossed in a book on the sofa.

Hermione, as focused as she was, hadn't yet noticed Harry's entrance into the Common Room, so Harry took the time to examine his best friend. Hermione had been with him every step of the way, dealing with his intense mood swings in the wake of Cedric's death and helping him grow into the man he'd become. In all honesty, he credited Hermione more with his accomplishments than he did himself.

When he spoke to her on the train ride home at the end of fourth year about fast-tracking his studies and seriously focusing on becoming a better wizard, she agreed to help him without hesitation. _In fact_, Harry thought wryly, _she was so excited she was bouncing with excitement_. The smirk that had spread on Harry's face at that though softened as he watched Hermione in her element.

Her previously untamable mane of bushy brown hair had softened into sleek, wavy curls that perfectly framed her face, which was fixed in her unmistakable "focus face," as Harry liked to call it. She sat facing the fireplace with a rather large tome resting in her lap, legs crossed and with an intense look of concentration; slightly furrowed brow, scrunched nose, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her dark brown eyes roved across the page before darting back as she consumed each line of text.

Harry stood in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, and his thoughts of his best friend were interrupted by a sudden thought. Glancing at his wristwatch, he breathed an audible sigh of relief as he noted that breakfast had only just begun. Thankfully, it seemed his summer sleep schedule hadn't been altered too much by his new surroundings.

Hermione's head shot up when she heard Harry's sigh, and she beamed up at him, gently marking her place and closing the book. He grinned back just as heartily, a faint blush on his cheeks that he hoped she didn't notice.

"Morning, Harry!" she chirped, standing up and returning the book to her knapsack.

"Good morning," Harry returned, pushing off the wall and summoning his own bag from his room, slinging it over his shoulder. "Ready for breakfast?" Hermione nodded in response, and they made their way out of the Head quarters and down to the Great Hall in a comfortable silence. Sometime during their walk, their hands found each other and swung naturally in the small space between the two, a warm feeling spreading through Harry that he valiantly tried to ignore.

During breakfast, after Ron stumbled in bleary-eyed and empty-stomached, their class schedules were handed out by McGonagall, who tried her best to not glare disapprovingly at Ron's poor eating habits, as usual. As it turned out, Harry and Hermione shared all of their classes except for Arithmancy, which Harry had sworn off after stumbling upon the calculus examples in a NEWT-level textbook. Ron's schedule was similar to Harry's, though Ron was taking Care of Magical Creatures and therefore had several free periods that did not line up with Harry's. All three had Friday free of any classes, a fact that Ron noted with great enthusiasm, much to the amusement of his friends.

For his part, Harry was just glad he would be able to spend so much time with his friends without the threat of death and destruction hanging over their heads, and covertly voiced this thought to Hermione, who smiled softly and tightened her hold on his hand in agreement.

"Just wait until we're in the thick of NEWT preparation," she whispered, mischief dancing in her eyes. Harry grimaced good-naturedly, drawing a light laugh out of Hermione.

"I don't know what I'm more afraid of," Harry responded, an apprehensive look on his face, "the exams or your study schedules." Hermione's jaw dropped and she smacked Harry on the arm with her free hand as he chuckled at her indignation.

"Prat!"

The first week of classes was a whirlwind of normalcy, a fact that Harry appreciated immensely. Between classes, Head duties, studying books on the Animagus transformation, and helping Ron organize Quidditch practices, Harry had no time to dwell on the dark thoughts that would sometimes creep up on him. Any free time he had was spent with Hermione, either in their common room or outside by the lake. The summer warmth was fading rapidly and many students were trying to make the most of it before the autumn chill really set in, and the two were frequently joined by their friends outside.

By the end of the week, Harry's prediction had proven itself true, as he, Hermione, and even Ron were far past the point in the seventh year curriculum that their professors were instructing. Harry and Ron were surprised when they noticed that Hermione had decided to forgo the note-taking in Defense Against the Dark Arts and was even struggling to stay awake. The boys themselves had been discreetly magicking a balled-up slip of parchment back and forth to distract themselves from the exceedingly boring lecture about countercurses. When they confronted the normally attentive witch she flushed slightly but glared at them ferociously, much to Harry and Ron's amusement.

"It's not that I'm _bored,_ you two, it's just that we learned this almost two years ago!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Though Hermione would never admit it, Harry knew she was feeling rather dissatisfied with their current course load, and while Ron would likely start learning new material after Christmas Break, he and Hermione would likely experience no real motivation to attend classes at all this year because they were so far ahead. Which, Harry thought, would be another good reason for learning the Animagus transformation.

On Friday night, after a relaxing day spent outside with Ron and their friends, Harry and Hermione sat comfortably on the sofa, Hermione's bare feet once again resting in Harry's lap. Hermione was deeply engrossed in a thick tome about magical theory, and Harry was leaning back against the cushions with his eyes closed, taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere. The only sound that could be heard was the comforting crackle of the fire that warmed the normally drafty common room.

As Harry's thoughts drifted, a sudden realization came to him and his head jerked off the back of the sofa, his eyes flying open. The sudden movement was enough to jostle Hermione out of her reading, and she glared at him for disrupting her concentration. Before she had a chance to demand an explanation, Harry spoke.

"Shouldn't we ask Ron if he wants to become an Animagus with us?" he asked concernedly. The chastization on Hermione's lips died as her own eyes widened and she considered his question.

"Well," she started slowly, her brow furrowed in thought, "he doesn't usually enjoy learning something that he didn't have to. Even if he did want to join us, I have a feeling he'd likely give up rather quickly." Hermione grimaced at the harshness of her words, but Harry nodded in agreement.

"I think you're right," Harry said. "The only reason he was able to keep up with us last year and in fifth year was because it was literally a matter of life or death. He'd try it because he'd think it would be a cool skill to have, but he wouldn't have the motivation to really understand and learn it.

"Plus," Harry added, grinning at her, "I like the idea of a secret project just between the two of us. And Professor McGonagall, of course." Hermione blushed, smiling brilliantly back at him.

"So we're agreed, then," she said. "This will be kept just between us, at least until someone finds out or if Professor McGonagall wants us to present our project at the end of the year." Satisfied, Hermione shifted back against the armrest of the sofa, and Harry relaxed into the soft cushions.

The next day, Harry didn't get out of bed until noon, refusing to escape the warmth and comfort of his bed as he dozed in and out of consciousness. Hermione, having come to terms with Harry's weekend sleeping habits, simply let him be as she went about her morning, though she did make sure to save him some breakfast from the Great Hall. When Harry finally did get up, he found Hermione once again curled up in her favorite spot, reading - what else? - _Hogwarts: A HIstory._

She looked up upon hearing his door open and he was greeted by a cheerful smile, eliciting a grin from him as well.

"Morning," he said hoarsely, his voice still raspy from sleep. Hermione's smile widened, though it turned indulgent and when she spoke, she sounded distinctly amused.

"It's noon, Harry," she corrected, receiving an eye-roll in response. She giggled and gestured to the table in front of the fireplace, indicating the plate of food she had saved for him. On cue, Harry's stomach let out a loud growl, sending Hermione into another fit of giggles. Harry simply grinned and shook his head as he unceremoniously plopped down on the sofa beside her and removed the preservation charm Hermione had thoughtfully placed on the food.

"Thanks, love," he said gratefully before he conjured silverware and began enthusiastically consuming his meal, though thankfully not with as much gusto as their red-haired friend was prone to. Hermione's only response was a beatific smile at Harry's (likely unintentional) term of endearment. For a while, the two sat in a comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional clink of Harry's silverware against the plate or the rustle of Hermione turning a page.

As Harry finished his meal, he let out an obnoxiously loud belch, dramatically letting himself fall back into the couch cushions and patting his stomach as he grinned impishly at Hermione's wrinkled nose and furrowed brow. She replied with a light wandless stinging hex to his side, drawing out a high-pitched yelp, and simultaneously reclined into the armrest and rather forcefully dropped her feet into his lap, smirking at the widening of his eyes as her left foot landed quite close to a...sensitive part of the male anatomy - too close for comfort, in Harry's opinion.

Clearing his throat, Harry somehow managed a smile that was apologetic, terrified, and amused all at the same time. At Hermione's raised eyebrow, he sighed and began to massage her feet gently, stubbornly ignoring Hermione's triumphant smile as she returned to her reading.

Hermione and Harry stood outside of Professor McGonagall's office at precisely three o'clock in the afternoon. Hermione raised her hand and rapped sharply on the door, opening it after hearing a "Come in!" from the Transfiguration Professor. Both students settled themselves in the comfortable pair of armchairs across McGonagall's desk, smiling at her in greeting. Quickly putting the finishing touches on her feedback for the third years' Transfiguration essays, McGonagall gently set aside her grading materials in favor of the two lions before her.

Adhering to the stereotypical Gryffindor bluntness, Professor McGonagall dove straight into her lecture, wasting no time on pleasantries. "As you may know, there are currently two different ways to achieve the Animagus transformation. The way your father and his friends did it," she inclined her head towards Harry, "which is known as the Modern Method, and the way you two will do it, called the Traditional or Naturalist Method. Both paths have their advantages and disadvantages, as I'm sure you have already discovered." Receiving nods of confirmation from Harry and Hermione, who were both devoting their full attention to the stern professor.

"Both methods require Mastery-level competency in Self-Transfiguration, which is one of the reasons I was so shocked that Peter Pettigrew had been able to achieve such a feat with the rest of the Marauders." At the mention of Pettigrew, the expressions of all three magicals darkened, but McGonagall plowed on regardless. "However, while the Modern Method is much more consistent in terms of the amount of time it takes to complete, the Naturalist Method provides a much more satisfying result.

"Despite the drastically less time-consuming requirements of the Modern Method, the reason more witches and wizards haven't followed this path is simple: the Animagus Potion along with the Animagus Ritual have such extremely specific requirements that it is simply unrealistic for just anyone to set up and perform. With sufficient preparation, this method can be accomplished in less than a week. On the other hand, those who pursue the Naturalist Method will have no idea how long the process will take prior to its final stage. There are even some who spent their entire lives chasing after this dream, only to pass away before they complete the transformation.

"On the opposite side of the spectrum, there are confirmed thousand-year-old records of a group of witches and wizards extremely proficient in both Transfiguration and the Mind Arts who were able to accomplish the transformation in less than two days, a record which will likely never be broken." Here, McGonagall paused, watching Hermione's subtly changing expression as her mind raced to solve a puzzle that McGonagall herself had no idea she'd offered. Harry, sensing the shift in Hermione's attention, simply observed Hermione in amusement.

Suddenly, a triumphant look crossed the young witch's face as her eyes lit up, prompting a raised eyebrow from Professor McGonagall and a poorly stifled chuckle from Harry.

"This group of 'extremely proficient' witches and wizards wouldn't happen to be the Founders of Hogwarts, would they, Professor?" Hermione asked, though it seemed as if she already knew the answer. Professor McGonagall simply smiled and inclined her head, saying proudly, "Five points to Gryffindor for brilliant deductive reasoning, Miss Granger." Hermione beamed with pride, satisfied that she had inferred correctly.

"The Naturalist Method involves three distinct stages: Introspection, Connection, and Transformation. They are quite self-explanatory, but are obviously much more difficult than they seem. The first stage, Introspection, involves knowing yourself inside and out. You must become immersed in your own self, recognizing and understanding everything there is to know about yourself. Both this stage and the next stage, Connection, are deeply intertwined with the Mind Arts. In Introspection, you must thoroughly examine the way you think, the way you act, and the way you behave. You must also be fully aware of your limitations and your shortcomings, both mental and physical.

"The second stage, Connection, is generally accepted as the most difficult and the most lengthy part of the process. This stage will test your patience to the extreme, as you will allow yourself to be completely devoid of thought." Hermione grimaced at this, and both Harry and Professor McGonagall chuckled at the idea of a Hermione who _didn't think_. "As you meditate, adrift in thoughtlessness, you must also be _aware_. Aware of yourself, aware of your surroundings, aware of the fact that you are aware. This is where the Introspection stage comes into play. To accomplish such a state of awareness, you must know yourself so completely that such knowledge is instinctual, based on feeling and not active thought. You will know when this stage is complete when you find your Animagus form, connecting with it on a spiritual level.

"Once you are aware of your Animagus form, you will proceed to the third and final stage, Transformation. During this stage, you will practice Self-Transfiguration into your form on every part of your body, starting with your wand and proceeding wandlessly. The goal is to be able to shift into and out of your form in one smooth act of magic, simultaneously following the connection to your animal form while retaining your presence of mind. The first transformation will be the most difficult, as you must be able to cede complete control to your magic and your form, trusting in both that you will not lose yourself. After that, of course, you have become a true Animagus, and it will become much easier with practice."

Before Professor McGonagall could continue, Harry spoke up. "Which method did you use, Professor?" With a wry grin, McGonagall briefly explained her experience with learning to become an Animagus.

"I followed tradition and used the Naturalist Method, Mister Potter. It took me almost the entirety of my seventh year here at Hogwarts, although I believe you two will fare better than I. At the time, while I had arguably one of the best Transfiguration Professors in the history of Hogwarts in Headmaster Dumbledore, I let pride cloud my reasoning and refused to ask for help. The first half of my seventh year was spent running into wall after wall, frustrating me to the point where I nearly gave up altogether. You two, however, had the foresight and the presence of mind to approach me for advice, and you have also progressed much more than I had in the Mind Arts. If I were a betting witch," Professor McGonagall said slyly, prompting a snort from Harry and a cough from Hermione, for it was a poorly kept secret among those that knew the Transfiguration Professor well that she was indeed a "betting witch."

"If I were a betting witch, I'd wager that you will have made the connection with your inner animal by December and completed a full transformation by Christmas, though not before the holiday break," Professor McGonagall finished with a mischievous smirk. Her two lions perked up at the perceived challenge, exchanging a look before simultaneously grinning at their Head of House.

"Twenty Galleons says I 'connect' before November Twentieth and Hermione does it the day after-" Harry began, Hermione picking up seamlessly where he left off, "-and we transform right before break."

"Deal," McGonagall said, her smirk widening. Glancing at the ornate clock that hung from the wall to her left, McGonagall straightened and stood up, prompting Harry and Hermione to do the same.

"Now," she said as the trio began to make their way to her door, "to begin, you must become deeply familiar with every part of yourself; mind, body, and soul. We will meet here every fortnight starting today, at the same time, although that certainly does not preclude you from visiting at any other time you wish. As you know, my door is always open." The normally strict professor smiled fondly at her two students, who returned her smile with matching smiles of their own, though Harry's was decidedly more impish.

Just before they reached the door, the Head of House Gryffindor surprised the two students by pulling them into a fierce group hug, and while it only lasted a second, they were touched by the intimate act.

"I am very proud of you two, never forget that," Professor McGonagall said sternly, though the effect was ruined by her words and the soft smile she still wore. The smile remained affixed to her face as they exchanged parting words and her two lions walked off towards the stairs, no doubt eager to get outside and start their Animagus training.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe.**

_Harry Potter and the Completely Normal Seventh Year_

_By Shadowatom_

_Chapter 3_

As it was the weekend and still quite early on in the school year, many students were outside enjoying the relatively warm weather that Hogwarts saw so little of, at least until the very end of the school year, when the students get too busy stressing over exams.

As Harry and Hermione made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, neither spoke, each lost in their own thoughts and feelings as they began to follow Professor McGonagall's instructions. When they arrived at their destination, they wordlessly settled in, casting cushioning charms at the base of an abnormally large tree with an ease and familiarity borne of frequent similar excursions in years prior.

The trunk of the tree was just large enough that the two could sit side-by-side leaning back against it while still feeling comfortably balanced while pressed up against each other. Harry closed his eyes once he had relaxed into the familiar position, using his Occlumency skills to clear his mind of everything but the feelings and sensations he experienced in the moment. His breathing evened out and his heart rate slowed to a steady, relaxed beat. Fleetingly, as though a butterfly had flitted across his field of vision, he noticed Hermione mirroring his actions, and he gently cleared that thought away too, focusing on the feeling of the tree bark against his back, the soft warmth of Hermione's shoulder pressed against his.

He took in the smell of the forest behind him and the grassy fields in front of him - he listened to the light breeze that brushed over his skin, the rustling of leaves, the faint sounds of the various creatures and critters that called Hogwarts Grounds their home. He let himself get lost in the natural world, breathing in the fresh air mixed with the distinct yet subtle scent of Hermione's shampoo, and he felt content.

When Harry finally reopened his eyes, the moon shone brightly above them and he marveled at the feeling of freedom and calm that permeated his being. He felt Hermione shift beside him and turned his head slightly to regard her. She looked back at him with a smile so beautiful, so _content_ that Harry could do nothing but return the smile and its unspoken sentiments as he admired her profile in the pale moonlight.

With twin sighs of both satisfaction and reluctance, they picked themselves up and cast light cleaning charms on each other, removing the dirt from their clothes and the leaves from their hair.

The walk back to the castle was even more sedate as the two spent as much time outside as possible, though they were not as quiet as before. Hermione was the one to break the comfortable silence as they ambled hand-in-hand towards the front entrance of the castle, secure in the knowledge that they hadn't missed curfew or their patrols.

"Did you feel that, Harry?" she asked softly, her voice colored with wonder. "That connection? I felt so alive, so happy, so…" she trailed off, lost once again in the sensation of communing with nature.

"Free?" Harry finished just as quietly. "It was amazing. I feel so relaxed, but also a bit knackered," he admitted with a chuckle, drawing a smile out of his companion, who nodded in agreement.

"Well, we have ten minutes until curfew and our rounds start, and we did miss dinner, so we could stop at the kitchens on our way back…" Hermione suggested, though the mischievous glint in her eye at the slight abuse of power was effectively quelled when her stomach let out a loud growl, and Harry laughed out loud as Hermione glared down at the offending organ in betrayal.

"Sounds like a plan, love," Harry said, his grin widening ever so slightly at the light dusting of pink that rose to her cheeks. His own small blush had made its way to his face, but he felt too good to truly care. He knew his feelings for his best friend had definitely progressed further than seeing her as "just" his best friend and knew that she had likely realized it too, but they didn't need to rush into anything.

They had all the time in the world.

When the two returned to their room after a short, uneventful patrol followed by a satisfying late dinner with the friendly house elf staff, they walked in bleary eyed and drowsy, feeling tired and sated. Their arms were linked together and while neither were stumbling around like a drunk, it was clear that they were having trouble remaining steady on their feet, helping each other keep their balance.

They made their way to the sofa and collapsed back into it, exhaling loudly in relief. Harry shut his eyes, relaxing into the soft cushions and brought his arm up and around Hermione, who snuggled into him gratefully as he leaned his head on hers. His breathing quickly slowed and what little tenseness remained in his body dissipated, eliciting a muffled giggle from Hermione.

Letting out a huge yawn herself, she cast a _Tempus_ with a lazy wave of her hand and decided it was too late to try to get him up and into his room. Not that she really wanted to leave this position, but the couch wouldn't be all that comfortable for a full night. Her decision made, Hermione drew her wand and quietly Transfigured the couch, slowly reclining the backrest and lengthening the seats so that they eventually wound up lying down on a surprisingly comfortable bed, to Hermione's satisfaction.

Harry lay on his back, his face buried in her hair and his left arm wrapped around her waist in an almost loving embrace. Hermione waved her wand once more to conjure some blankets before stashing her wand underneath her pillow and doing the same to Harry's before silently extinguishing the torches and the fireplace. She followed Harry into the land of dreams not thirty seconds later, and the two slept soundly and undisturbed throughout the whole night.

Surprisingly, Harry woke first.

He became aware of his surroundings slowly; the comforting warmth pushed up against his front, the soft yet unfamiliar mattress he was laying on, and the annoyingly persistent whispers that had disrupted his peaceful rest. He pressed his face further into the soft, familiar-smelling hair in front of him in a vain attempt to block out the diabolical interlopers who dared to interrupt his beloved sleep.

He stiffened and relaxed in the same moment as his sleep-induced haze cleared enough for him to finally recognize his bedmate before summarily declaring petulantly (in his head, of course) that he never wanted to let go. Unfortunately, the tension that shifted his body, brief though it was, was enough to rouse Hermione from slumber as well.

The whispers stopped abruptly as Hermione turned within Harry's arms and burrowed her face into his chest, throwing an arm around his waist and pulling him to her. Several beats passed before muffled giggles broke out, causing Harry's brow to crease in consternation. Taking a moment to focus on the position of the perpetrators, he lazily lifted a hand and shot a low-powered wandless stinging hex in that general direction.

Two yelps of surprise - one a little more pain-filled than the other - cut off the giggling and brought a pleased smile to Harry's face.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" whined the voice of Ron Weasley, which prompted full-blown laughter from the other invader, who Harry had now discerned was Ginny. Harry simply responded with a grunt and tightened his hold on Hermione. He began dozing off after silence had pervaded throughout the room before his body moved on instinct, rolling himself and Hermione over to the edge of the makeshift bed.

His quick action came not a moment too soon as Ron had crept around the bed and aimed his wand gleefully at the two sleeping Head students, unleashing the most powerful silent _Aguamenti_ he could muster. He growled in frustration as he missed his targets only to be toppled backwards by a wall of freezing water that Hermione had conjured, having retrieved her wand from under the pillow.

Ron, now soaking wet from head to toe, coughed and spluttered from his position on the floor as Ginny doubled over wheezing with laughter at his misfortune. Sitting up, he flinched slightly at the fierce glare he received from Hermione, who had ended up on top of Harry, straddling his hips.

"_Out,_" she rasped threateningly, and Ron obeyed, quickly fleeing the room with what little dignity he had left. Ginny, who was still recovering her breath followed at a more sedated pace, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

As the door closed behind Ginny, Hermione groaned and collapsed back down onto Harry, who chuckled in agreement. She rested her head on Harry's chest as he stroked her hair absently, both of them enjoying the peace and comfort of their current position.

As they lay there, Harry's thoughts wandered to a highly embarrassing discussion with his godfather about Hermione that they'd had over the summer. Sirius, in an increasingly common moment of parental affection mixed with Marauder-like teasing, asked Harry about his feelings toward his best friend, to which Harry responded with much blushing and stuttering. Somehow Sirius had eventually been able to weedle out a full confession from Harry and had given him a piece of uncharacteristically profound and considerate advice. Harry's gratitude lasted for about a second before their talk devolved into a ribbing that had ended with Harry, sporting a flushed face redder than the Weasleys' hair, chasing the Marauder around the hotel room casting stinging hexes.

"_So, Harry," Sirius began as the two men relaxed in their lavish hotel room, "what's the deal with you and Hermione?" Harry's face erupted in a furious blush as he replied, his voice pitched slightly higher._

"_Uh - er - that is...what do you mean?" he asked as Sirius snickered at his godson's embarrassment._

"_You know exactly what I mean, Harry. Do you fancy her?" Sirius watched Harry's face closely as the teen's eyes unfocused in thought. Harry struggled to find a proper response as he examined his feelings for Hermione, having spent countless nights agonizing over the same question. _

"_I...sort of?" he eventually responded, sounding slightly panicked. _

"_What do you mean by that?" Sirius asked curiously, his tone becoming more gentle as he recognized the trouble Harry was having with defining his feelings._

"_I mean...I think I do fancy her, for sure, but I also think it's more than that," Harry said slowly. "She's my best friend in every sense of the word, but with everything we've been through I don't think that's enough to define what we are. She's just...she's Hermione, you know? She's always been there for me, whether I've been thrown into a death trap or I've forgotten to do my Potions essay. I don't know what I would do without her. I definitely would've been dead a thousand times over by now if it wasn't for her."_

_Sirius blinked, both surprised and pleased at Harry's rushed admission of his feelings. "Have you thought about this a lot?" Sirius asked, though he believed he knew the answer._

_Harry groaned, confirming his godfather's suspicions. "Only every bloody night," he whined. "Between that and the nightmares I don't think I properly slept all year." Sirius grinned, equal parts amused and proud._

"_Why don't you give it a shot? Worst case, she doesn't return your feelings, but you get it off your chest and nothing else changes."_

"_But that could ruin everything!" Harry cried in horror. Sirius sighed, shaking his head. He pushed himself off the armchair he was reclining in and sat down next to Harry on the edge of his bed, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder._

"_Have some faith, Harry. You and I both know that your friendship is too strong to let something like that break it. At worst, it would be awkward for a few days or a couple weeks but you'd recover eventually and the two of you would likely be closer than ever. Besides, you also have to think of the best case scenario," Sirius added with a mischievous smirk. Harry stared balefully at his godfather, wary of what followed the expression on his face._

"_I don't really want to ask this, but what would be the best case scenario?"_

"_Why, she'd snog you senseless and you'd shag on the spot, of course!" Sirius laughed. Harry groaned again and buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. "Aw, cheer up, Harry. All joking aside, I really do believe it would be worth it to ask her out, or at least talk to her about it. At the very least, give it some thought. You don't have to make a decision just yet."_

_Harry sighed in defeat, falling back onto the bed, his feet dangling just above the carpeted floor. "Fine," he muttered sullenly, causing a victorious grin to break out on Sirius's face._

"_Ha!" Sirius shouted. "My godson's getting a girlfriend!" He threw his arms up in triumph and danced a little victory dance, only to be interrupted by a harsh stinging hex in his backside. He yelped in pain, wincing away from Harry's glare. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to deter the Marauder, and he waved his wand and conjured confetti and balloons that were strung out along the walls of the hotel room, complete with a banner read "Congratulations, Harry and Hermione!" in Gryffindor red and gold._

_Harry, sufficiently angered, tackled his godfather to the ground and chaos ensued, resulting in complaints from the room directly below them. However, by then Sirius's goal of cheering Harry up had been accomplished, and both men sheepishly apologized to their temporary downstairs neighbors, who also happened to be magicals and therefore recognized the two. That resulted in a surprisingly pleasant and interesting conversation about different magical communities around the world, as the couple loved to travel, and by the end of the day Harry's earlier embarrassment had been all but forgotten._

Harry's train of thought was broken by a gentle poke on his shoulder and he blinked, refocusing on the witch that was currently fixing him with a slightly concerned stare. He smiled at her, and watched, transfixed, as the concern in her dark brown eyes melted away and her face lit up in a small grin. Their faces were close, their noses barely two inches apart

"What were you thinking about?" she asked quietly, resting her chin on the backs of her hands, which had folded together on top of his chest. He didn't answer her question immediately, preferring to simply watch her as he gathered his infamous Gryffindor courage. Hermione didn't press him, though he knew she wanted to. Her nostrils flared and her fingers drummed lightly on his chest.

Finally, after almost half a minute, he broke the silence. "When's the next Hogsmeade weekend?" he asked, twirling a strand of her hair around his fingers. She frowned at the non sequitur, but answered him nonetheless.

"Next week. Professor McGonagall handed out the schedules, don't you remember?" Hermione replied, a hint of reproach in her voice. Harry only grinned, unabashed, before his face turned serious and contemplative once again. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, causing Hermione's eyebrows to furrow in concern.

"Do you want to go together?" he asked, as confidently as he could, his inner thoughts in turmoil and his stomach in knots. Hermione's frown deepened, and Harry's heart sank.

"We always go together, Harry," she responded slowly.

"Well, yeah, but...I mean," Harry stumbled over his words, his heart beating faster and panic worming its way into his voice. "I mean, just the two of us. As in, you know, a date."

Hermione stared at him uncomprehendingly. Harry could see the cogs turning in her mind and would have laughed at the look of utter confusion on her face if he weren't so bloody _terrified._ All of a sudden, she stiffened, looking at him with wide eyes. She swallowed, opening her mouth to speak.

Harry gulped.

"A...date?" she squeaked, and Harry let out a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Er, yes, Hermione. A date," he replied. He was going to die. From embarrassment or suspense, he wasn't sure.

"As in a...a friend...date?" Harry almost rolled his eyes.

"No, Hermione. A _date_ date. As in a romantic date."

Hermione blinked.

Harry sighed. He took the plunge, praying to any and every god he could think of.

"I fancy you, Hermione."

She blinked again.

He stared at her, waiting. Her face was completely red, and he didn't doubt that his face matched.

Her eyes began to water.

Harry panicked.

"Er - well - I mean, you don't - I just wanted to, you know, tell you. You don't have to-" Harry broke off with a groan, covering his face with his hands. He wanted to crawl into a corner and die. Perhaps he could ask Dobby or Kreacher to pop him into the ocean. He wouldn't mind drowning. At least he'd get to see the ocean again. The problem was, Hermione was still laying on top of him, and he couldn't exactly ask her to move so he could go die, could he? That would be exceedingly rude.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into his hands. "I shouldn't have said that. Now you're in an awkward position, and I don't want to jeopardize our friendship. You can say no, you know. It's alright. I don't blame you. I mean, it'll be awkward for a while but I just want you to be happy and we'd be fine eventually. Is it getting hot in here? I'm getting hot. I think I need to-," he babbled, only to be cut off by Hermione grasping his wrists and gently pulling them away from his face. He winced, but opened his eyes, bracing himself for the worst. Rejection, pity, outright disgust - he'd seen all of it in his mind, but he didn't know if he was prepared for the real thing.

He wasn't.

She was beaming, almost happier than he'd ever seen her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears of joy and a laugh escaped her, though it came out mixed with a small sob.

"I fancy you too, Harry," she finally answered, her voice cracking with emotion. This time, it was Harry's turn to be shocked into silence. His mouth hung open slightly and it seemed as if he'd stopped breathing all together. Another laugh escaped her, this one less teary than the last, and she dropped her head to his chest and squeezed him in a hug as tightly as she could. "Of course I'll go to Hogsmeade with you."

Almost automatically, Harry's arms came up and wrapped around her in reciprocation. A smile slowly spread across his face as he processed her words, and he let out a loud, joyful bark of laughter, relaxing into her embrace as he felt all his doubts leave him. After a moment of silence, however, he frowned.

A none-too-soft pinch to the side elicited a squeak from Hermione and she tried to glare at him but was still smiling too widely to put the glare to good use. "You scared me there, Granger," he said accusingly. "I thought our friendship was ruined! I thought I was done for!" She had the gall to laugh at him. She _laughed_!

"Oh, Harry," she sighed happily, reaching forward to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, "you'd have to try a lot harder than that to ruin our friendship. Not that I want you to, nor should _you_ want to, of course."

"Of course not!" Harry protested, his indignation countered by the silly grin he now wore. "But, you know, you could have answered a bit quicker. I almost called Kreacher to pop me into the ocean so I could die and not have to live with the embarrassment." Hermione simply rolled her eyes at his dramatics, not even dignifying that statement with a response.

They fell into a comfortable silence, both basking in the wonderful feeling of being together. Eventually, Hermione let out a sigh and cast a _Tempus_. She grimaced at the time, reluctantly pushing herself up using Harry's chest, causing him to groan in disappointment.

"C'mon, Harry. It's almost two in the afternoon. We need to eat." She slowly dismounted the bed, only to stretch out her back until she heard and felt the satisfying pops and cracks.

"But Hermione," Harry complained, though he sat up and stretched as well despite his tone. Hermione stifled a yawn as she made her way to her room to get ready. Just before she opened the door, however, she paused, looking back at her best friend. He was watching her with a smile on his face, his eyes so full of emotion that she couldn't help but smile back.

Letting go of the door handle, she walked back and met Harry in the middle in a tight embrace, both of them trying to convey the feelings they couldn't explain in words. When they finally parted, Hermione asked haltingly, blushing lightly, "So, does this mean we're...dating?"

Harry blushed as well, but his voice was confident when he replied. "We don't have to label it if you don't want to yet," he said, gazing into her eyes. "We can just be 'together.'" She bit her lip, eyes sparkling.

"I like that," she whispered and reached up to kiss the corner of his mouth once again, delighting in the smile that it produced. She pulled away again, grinning like a fool and he squeezed her waist before they reluctantly let go, parting ways for the time being.

"Later?" Harry asked as he opened the door to his room.

"Later," Hermione agreed, adding with a smile, "We've got plenty of time, don't you think?"

He returned the smile, nodding. "Yeah, we do.

"We've got all the time in the world."

**A/N: So, I definitely did not intend for this chapter to turn out the way it did, but I'm not unhappy with the result. I've actually been craving some fluff lately, and that's probably why this happened. I've actually never written anything like this before and I've found I'm not necessarily the best at it. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!**


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